


Three Days of Peace, Love, and Music

by orphan_account



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1960s, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Fluff, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Hippies, LSD, M/M, Minor Angst, Music Festival, Recreational Drug Use, Smut, Tent Sex, The Grateful Dead, Vietnam War, Woodstock, pot smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-16
Updated: 2014-08-01
Packaged: 2018-02-09 04:18:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 20,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1968741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The summer of 1969 would later be nicknamed the Summer of Love, because that’s what it was. Love, or at least a drug-induced form of love, was everywhere. It was an era of freedom. It was an era of nonconformity. Make love not war, free hugs, all you need is love. </p><p>Woodstock Music and Arts Festival was the pinnacle of the revolutionary sensibilities of that summer; Three Days of Peace and Music was the festival's tagline; and Harry, Liam, and Niall were caught up in all of it. </p><p>When they met Louis and Zayn at the festival, it felt like fate. It would be three days of peace, three days of love, and three days of lots and lots of music. ☮<br/>...<br/>Russian translation: https://ficbook.net/readfic/3101502</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The summer of 1969 would later be nicknamed the Summer of Love, because that’s what it was. Love, or at least a drug-induced form of love, was everywhere. It was an era of freedom. It was an era of nonconformity. Make love not war, free hugs, all you need is love.

Perhaps it was the antipode, and direct reaction to the atrocities of the war in Vietnam, which by the summer of ‘69 was raging stronger than it had in the past decade. At the beginning of the year, President Nixon had ordered US troops to go on the offensive in the Vietnamese demilitarized zone, and by April more than 33,000 Americans had been killed in Vietnam. By spring, the Paris peace talks were providing ineffective, and Nixon’s first peace plan had been rejected.

In the United States, antiwar protests were cropping up nation-wide, especially on college campuses, and were not always innocent and non-violent in nature. Campus protesters used new revolutions in media, such as television and news photography, to show the violence in Vietnam and to educate anyone who would listen. The anti-war protests at Harvard University in April, later called the Harvard Student Strike, were anything but peaceful. It was well organized, and a reaction to a decade of social and political injustice.

The nonconformist sensibilities of the decade were new and radical. It was a far-reaching and revolutionary cultural debate that asked for change and demanded accountability for the atrocities of the war. But it was also about humanity. For the first time, young people were demanding sexual freedom, the right to self expression, and basic human rights for all.

Perhaps that’s why, in the summer of 1969, a music festival was organized. It was about autonomy and originality. It was about peace. It was billed as ‘three days of peace and music’. It was the absolute antithesis of the war and the violence. The festival’s organizers expected perhaps ten thousand guests. But by the festival’s peak on Saturday August 16th 1969, the crowd had swelled to over four hundred thousand.

Woodstock, and the Summer of Love, was later seen as the climax of the 1960s. It happened at the very peak of this era of change. Woodstock was three days of peace and love, as promised, but it was also about so much more. Woodstock defined the radical revolutionary spirit of a generation.

 

***

 

After finishing his second year at college, a weekend of music and fun was exactly what Harry Styles found he needed. Harry had tried not to get involved in the protests; it had all seemed like too much chaos and violence with little identifiable result. But when a violent protest erupted on his college campus in the spring of 1968, he couldn’t sit by and watch.

Although that’s more or less what had happened, as Harry and his friend Liam found themselves helplessly watching, doing nothing but screaming for help as they were jostled through the crowd, as their friend Niall was dragged off a statue in the park by a police officer, beaten, and then arrested.

After that, Harry was deeply involved in the anti-war effort. He worked on the student newspaper committee, trying hard to keep the student body informed of exactly what was going on in Vietnam. Watching what had happened to his friend, and writing every week about what was going on in Vietnam, lit a fire inside Harry. He found himself devoted to a new cause.

On top of that, Harry knew he could be drafted at any time. It was unlikely, given his academic standing at a prestigious school, that he would be. But it was something that was happening all around him, and to his friends back home.

But Harry was fundamentally a daydreamer. He enjoyed the freedom and autonomy of the time and place he was living in, and found himself genuinely happy with the choices he had made to get him where he was. He tried to stay as active as possible, and felt confidence in the cause he had chosen to fight for. When he wasn’t working, Harry could spend hours on end dreaming about what was to come for his future, or his family and friends, or his country. But sometimes Harry found he needed something, or someone, to pull him back to earth. And that was exactly what the cause did for him. Whenever Harry found himself lost in thought, the harsh reality of the war would drag him back.

 

It was August now, and school was out. Over the past month Niall had done an excellent job of convincing the other two boys that this music festival being held upstate was something they absolutely couldn’t miss.

“The Who is playing!” he would declare, over and over, as though they simply had no other choice, given this information.

Which was why, on Friday August 15th, Harry, Liam and Niall left their dorms at Columbia University, happy to be out of Manhattan and headed into the country for a fun weekend of “peace and love”.

 

They hit the festival traffic when they were still an hour outside of Bethel, New York.

“Jesus, there’s this many people going to the festival?” Liam exclaimed as he hit the brakes on his old Chevy pickup. The three of them were wedged across the front seats: Harry in the passenger seat, Niall in the middle, and Liam driving. It wasn’t the most ideal form of transportation, as Liam swore the old truck wouldn’t make it outside Manhattan. But it was their only option.

“See, I told you this would be the festival of the decade!” Niall said excitedly. Although the positivity was slightly annoying considering the summer heat and the Chevy’s lack of air conditioning, Harry and Liam couldn’t help but smile. It was one of the many things they loved about Niall: his always upbeat, making lemonade from lemons attitude.

Another three hours later and Niall was fast asleep, drooling on Harry’s shoulder; Harry was leaning against the window, his eyes going heavy; and Liam was getting tired of people falling asleep on him.

 

“Oh my god, there’s naked people,” Liam observed, hoping to rouse the boys. Niall and Harry snapped awake and sat up. They looked around and tried to take in the chaotic scene surrounding them. They had arrived.

There were thousands more people than any of them had anticipated, and they knew they weren’t even close to the stage or the campgrounds yet.

There were people of all ages, wearing anything one could imagine, or nothing at all. Many of them had painted themselves with body paint, or wore silly costumes, or had flowers in their hair. Many held hands, creating long chains of people. People carried blankets and tents, and large coolers. Several had guitars slung across their backs. There were even some children.

They were all headed in the same direction, abandoning their cars in the open fields, making for the festival.

“Far out! Naked girls!” Niall said as he flung his body over Harry’s to press his face against the window.

“Yay, naked people!” Harry agreed, making no effort to hide his excitement. Liam let out a huff.

“Although I know you two are excited about the naked people for very different reasons, I don’t want to be the only one of us with clothes on this weekend,” Liam tried to explain.

“Well, you know how to fix that problem, don’t you?” Harry said with a cheeky grin. Liam scoffed.

“So where should we park?” Liam asked, barely pressing the gas now, allowing the Chevy to just crawl along through the crowd.

“I don’t think it matters, dude,” Niall observed, gesturing to the chaos around them.

Liam steered towards a group of vehicles clustered together and parked alongside them. The three boys hopped out of the truck and made their way around to the pickup to grab their things. They had brought one tent for the three of them, as well as sleeping bags, food, water, and a few personal items. Niall had brought his guitar.

The air was thick with humidity. The sky was overcast, the sun just peeking through the rainclouds in the western sky as it was beginning to set. Harry gazed up at the sky and adjusted his clothing on his sweat-sticky body.

“How do we get to the festival? To the farm, I mean?” Harry asked the nearest group of people who looked like they knew where they were headed. A pretty girl with long blonde hair, wearing bell bottoms and a bikini top, answered in a breathy voice.

“It’s about a mile walk. They cut the fence so anyone can get in, no charge!” she explained, her eyes unfocused, before her friends pulled her along giggling.

Looking around at the people, the boys could all feel the buzz of excitement in the air. There was already an incredible feeling of community and togetherness, like they all knew they were here for the same reasons, and escaping for just a little while from the same madness.

 

A one mile walk hadn’t sounded like a long distance fifteen minutes ago, but with all the people and the mud and carrying all their gear, it proved to be slow going.

“Why is this festival even called Woodstock, anyway?” Niall questioned in a whiny, breathless voice as he adjusted his aviators, pushing them up the sweaty bridge of his nose.

“Apparently they were supposed to have it in Woodstock, but it got relocated here to Bethel for some reason,” Liam tried to explain as they trudged along. Harry wondered why Liam seemed to be the only one who wasn’t out of breath from the exhausting trek.

It was after five and the first act of the festival was already on stage. The boys could hear the music in the distance as they walked; the sound of it rolling across the flat, open fields.

“I can hear Richie!” Niall exclaimed, the sound of the deep bass getting clearer and clearer the closer they walked. He shifted his guitar strap on his shoulder and picked up his walking pace.

Harry flicked his hair out of his eyes and squinted at the setting sun. He already had a feeling that this weekend was truly going to be something he would never forget. Despite the heat and the crowds, he was already mentally thanking Niall for letting him talk them into this.

 

When the boys crested a small hill, the sight before their eyes took their breath away. It was astounding. The farm the festival was being held on was vast and bowl-shaped, the perfect natural amphitheatre. The stage was situated at the bottom of the shallow “bowl”, with at least two hundred thousand people surrounding it.

Richie Havens and his band were already halfway through their set, appearing from the boy’s vantage point like little ants on the big stage in the center of the mass of people. It was quite a sight to behold and certainly unlike anything they had expected.

Most groups had already set up little campsites. It was a sea of colorful tents and blankets and people everywhere. Harry could now see why the music had been so audible even at a distance: the shape of the venue lent itself perfectly to the situation, the bowl-shape amplifying the music and allowing the sound to travel across the open expanse of farmland.

“Fuck,” Liam exclaimed softly as the three of them stood in awe, taking in the sight. Niall could barely keep still, bouncing on his heels and adjusting the stuff he was carrying.

“This is… far out,” Harry said, matching Liam’s awestruck expletive.

“Let’s find a place to set up camp!” Niall suggested, barely able to control his excitement.

“Okay, you’re gonna need to take a sedative,” Liam joked as they began to descend into the crowd.

“Or just a few hits of grass and I’ll be mellow as a cucumber,” Niall agreed.

“I think it’s _cool_ as a cucumber,” Harry pondered out loud, following the boys. Niall shrugged.

They made their way through the crowd of people, most of whom were not sober. Walking through the crowd it was immediately evident that most of the festival attendees were there for more than just the music. The scene before them was as wonderful as it was overwhelming. There were all types of different people, many openly taking drugs or rolling around with one another in the mud.

Niall had a big goofy grin on his face, seeing what kind of shenanigans they themselves might be getting up to in the coming days. Liam looked half amused and half scared. And Harry was simply taking it all in. Thinking about it now, he couldn’t remember the last time he had allowed himself to let loose and have fun and simply be free.

 

“Do you think we’re allowed to build a campfire?” Niall was asking an hour later as the boys organized their campsite and Liam took stock of their food and water supplies.

“Do you know _how_ to build a fire?” Liam replied, already knowing the answer.

“No. But you do, Boy Scout,” Niall joked.

As Liam looked around the campsite, Niall pulled off his sweaty t-shirt and settled down on the ground with his guitar. Liam began to dig through their coolers for some beers as two boys walked up to their sight, clearly drawn by Niall’s strumming.

“Hola!” Niall said loudly, happy his guitar was attracting visitors.

“Hey,” the smaller stranger greeted casually, glancing between the boys, “We were just wandering, looking for some people our age to hang with.”

“Right on, man. Well you came to the right place, settle in!” Liam said happily as he grabbed two more beers for their new guests. “I’m Liam,” he said, handing out the beers.

“Louis,” said the one who greeted them. He was small in stature, but his presence was anything but small. He seemed lively and charismatic, with gorgeous facial features and bright blue eyes shining with mischief.

“I’m Zayn,” the other one said. Liam found himself blinking a few times to be able to take in Zayn, who was perhaps even more attractive than Louis, but very different in appearance. He had dark hair and dark eyes, with a deeply thoughtful expression on his face.

“Niall!” Niall exclaimed with a smile as he looked up at the other two from his spot on the ground. Louis and Zayn took seats across from Niall, Liam following suit.

“It’s just the two of you as well?” Zayn asked as he took the bottle opener from Liam, his face heating up as they made eye contact.

“Oh, no, we have another guy,” Niall replied, “Harry! Get out here!” he shouted brusquely in the direction of their tent.

“Harry’s in the tent,” Liam explained with a roll of his eyes in Niall’s direction.

“You play the guitar? That’s groovy. I play some piano,” Louis said, starting up a conversation. He was happy they had found a low key and inviting group of people to spend time with. Down on the stage Sweetwater had just begun their set. Soft, flowery music could be heard drifting from the stage, the sound of tambourines and melodic guitar riffs traveling to them from the distant amps.

Niall was just about to answer Louis when Harry walked out of the tent wearing nothing but a necklace of flowers and a bright smile. “I’m here!” he announced as he walked up to the group completely unabashed.

Niall and Liam were clearly used to this behavior. “Just what I expected,” Niall said, turning back to his guitar.

“Hi, I’m Harry!” Harry chirped happily, holding out a hand for Louis to shake. Louis couldn’t control the blush that appeared on his face as he took Harry’s hand.

“Louis,” he mumbled, looking at the ground with an embarrassed smile. Zayn smiled knowingly at Louis and then shook Harry’s hand as well.

“I’m Zayn,” Zayn repeated for Harry as Harry sat on the ground between Liam and Louis. Harry offered another smile to Louis who tried to keep his attention on Niall’s guitar playing.

“Okay, clearly it’s time to break out the grass,” Liam suggested as he rolled his eyes yet again, and reached over to his backpack.

“Groovy,” Zayn exclaimed with another smirk in Liam’s direction.

 

As the smell of weed wafted through their campsite, the five boys were joined by others as well. People began to come and go, offering food or music or drugs or simple conversation. Down on the stage the music was almost uninterrupted as the night went on.

The boys found themselves quickly enveloped in laughter and a weed-induced haze. They drank beer and smoked and laughed and listened to one another and took turns playing Niall’s guitar and singing along, some more successful than the others.

And Harry could not take his eyes from Louis. All around them people were coming and going, music was playing, alcohol and weed were being passed around, and still Harry’s attention was on Louis. His presence was magnetic. He was utterly charming, making conversation and actually listening when people spoke to him. He had a higher, airy voice to match his delicate features. He was wearing cut-off shorts that showed off his toned calves, and an effortless Grateful Dead t-shirt.

Harry himself was outgoing and loved to socialize, but in that moment all he wanted was to watch Louis. He watched the way Louis’ eyes crinkled when he laughed, the way he gently pushed his hair off his forehead every few minutes, and adjusted his clothing like it was a nervous habit.

And when Harry looked away, he swore he saw out of the corner of his eye Louis noticing him as well. Harry didn’t know if it was the weed or the company, but he couldn’t stop smiling. He knew he probably looked a little whacky, with his mop of curly hair, sweat making it stick to his forehead, and his flower necklace around his neck and nothing else.

But he didn’t care. He allowed himself to get lost in all of it. He laughed and talked and watched people come and go. But mostly, he watched Louis, and listened to him talk, and laughed along when he said something funny. He couldn’t take his eyes off him, and didn’t care to try.

 

When Louis finally addressed him directly, Harry had to blink a few times to pull himself out of his contented fog. Louis was smiling at him, his blue eyes bright and intense.

“What?” Harry asked, leaning in to hear Louis speak. His airy voice was hard to hear over the crowd. Louis giggled at Harry’s inattention, an adorably pleasing sound.

“Lost in a daydream?” Louis asked kindly, his attention focused completely on Harry now. Harry smiled at the ground.

“I guess so,” he replied.

“What I said was, are you looking forward to any of the acts?” Louis asked again, biting his lip now.

“Oh!” Harry exclaimed as Liam nudged him on his other side, trying to pass him the glass pipe, the weed still lit and giving off a thin wisp of smoke. Harry took it along with the lighter.

“I’m not sure who’s playing, actually,” he explained as he brought the pipe to his lips, flicked the lighter, and inhaled the sweet-smelling smoke. He held it in his lungs for a moment, Louis watching him still. “Niall dragged us here,” he added on the exhale.

He passed the pipe to Louis who nodded at his words. Louis inhaled as well and then passed the weed along. Harry watched him. The way he moved was so lithe and soft, he was unlike anyone Harry had seen before.

“But I’m really happy he did,” Harry finished, looking Louis directly in the eyes now. Louis smiled his coy smile again.

 

Just as Harry was finding himself lost in Louis’ stare, a clap of thunder made him jump. It pulled the others from their conversations as well.

“It’s gonna rain!” Liam exclaimed

“Right on!” Niall added as he stood up to put his guitar away.

And rain it did. It was one of those summer downpours that came quick and intense, thoroughly soaking everyone and everything. And they danced in it.

Harry was the first to jump up. Sweetwater continued to play through the downpour, and everyone was dancing, many of them shucking off their clothing. Mud was everywhere; there was no way to keep clean. Niall was dancing with several girls; the biggest grin Harry had ever seen was plastered on his face. Zayn was shy to dance, but Liam was making an effort to help him open up a bit. And Harry made his way over to Louis who was standing off to the side as though he didn’t want to bother anyone.

“Don’t like to dance?” Harry asked thoughtfully, though he had to almost yell the question over the music and the crowd and the rain.

“I’m not good at it,” Louis replied, scrunching his nose, but a smile on his lips. He looked around at everyone and seemed suddenly overwhelmed by the crowd.

“Nobody isn’t good at dancing,” Harry jumped in, grabbing Louis’ hand and pulling him along, not allowing him to feel shy or overwhelmed or self-conscious.

Harry grasped Louis’ other hand and began to sway with him to the beat. Louis laughed and let Harry lead him. It rained through Ravi Shankar’s set, and the rhythmic Indian-style citar music being played through the drenching rain had them all in almost a trance.

Louis soon forgot his self-consciousness and let Harry take the lead. They danced together, in the mass of people, barefoot in the mud.

Harry felt like he could barely control his fondness for this boy he had just met. Something about him was so endearing and charming and completely unique. It wasn’t something Harry had ever seen before. He was delicate, but strong. He was shy but confident. He held Harry’s gaze, his eyes focused and intense. And soaking wet in the rain, Harry suddenly wanted nothing more than to run his hands all over Louis.

 

Just as Harry was wondering if it was just his drug-altered mind that had him thinking like this, Niall ran up to them, tugging on their forearms.

“Let’s jump in the mud!” he was shouting excitedly. Harry pulled his eyes from Louis’ to acknowledge Niall. Liam and Zayn were watching them as well, waiting for them to come along. Harry looked back to Louis, their hands still intertwined.

“Let’s go for it!” he exclaimed, letting go of one hand and pulling Louis with him. He grabbed a pair of shorts on the way out of camp.

Towards the bottom of the crowd, closer to the stage, there was an enormous mud hole where the rainwater had collected. The boys found themselves running towards the mud like little kids, Harry and Louis still holding hands. Harry dove into it, landing on his belly and pulling Louis behind him.

The music was intense at this distance, and they had to shout to be heard over it. Liam and Zayn picked up chunks of mud and started flinging it at each other, other members of the crowd doing the same.

Harry didn’t think he had laughed so hard in ages. With the crowd and the music and the drugs, he felt transformed, in an amazing way.

They all played in the mud, flinging big handfuls at each other and squishing it into one another’s hair and pushing each other like preschoolers. It squished between their toes and fingers, and soaked their hair. They danced to the beat of the music. It was energizing and freeing, like something out of a dream. The music never let up.

The boys didn’t want to lose one another, so they stayed close, but Harry and Louis kept track of one another the entire time, never out of one another’s line of sight.

Over an hour of playing in the mud and the rain, now just a drizzle, had them all thoroughly soaked, their clothes ten pounds heavier with caked on mud.

Harry suddenly found himself exhausted. He looked around and noticed Louis looking overwhelmed and grabbed his hand, “You okay?” he asked with a smile.

“Just getting tired!” Louis shouted over the music. Harry smiled and playfully grabbed his face with both hands, leaving big muddy hand prints on both Louis’ cheeks.

“We should go back to the camp!” he yelled, pulling Louis in with his muddy hands. Louis pushed Harry’s hands away in mock-disgust.

“Ew!” he pretended to cringe, but ended up laughing.

“Liam!” Harry shouted, getting Liam and Zayn’s attention. “Wanna head back?” he asked, now dropping his hands to grab one of Louis’. Both boys nodded and grabbed Niall to pull him away from the crowd.

 

The boys trudged back to Harry, Niall, and Liam’s campsite. Liam had hot dogs cooking over a tiny campfire within minutes.

“I have a feeling we’ll be dirty for the next three days!” Niall observed, plopping himself down on his sleeping bag next to the fire.

“And where are we supposed to take a shit?” Zayn asked, sitting next to Niall.

“I heard they’re shipping in toilets tomorrow morning,” Liam replied.

“Yeah, I think nobody could have anticipated this many people!” Louis replied, still standing, simply watching the other boys as though unsure of where his place was.

“Sit next to me,” Harry offered, unrolling his own sleeping bag next to the fire. Louis seemed relieved to have an invitation, and made his way over to Harry.

Zayn began to pack another bowl of weed as the hot dogs heated. Again they were joined by other visitors on and off, looking for food or weed, or the warmth of the fire.

They were all stoned and full within twenty minutes. Niall pulled out his guitar again and began to strum slowly and lazily. Someone had brought the ingredients to make s’mores; much of the group roasted marshmallows over the fire. Harry and Louis sat together on Harry’s sleeping bag, mostly tuning out the rest of the crowd to focus on each other. They chatted and giggled with one another, their knees touching, if only by accident. They weren’t bothered by the mud on their bodies. It somehow felt right.

“Do you like college?” Louis asked Harry. Harry had been telling Louis about college life in Manhattan, about the chaos and busyness of the city, and Harry’s involvement in the antiwar effort.

“I do like it,” Harry said thoughtfully. “It’s helping me to see a bigger picture of the world, you know? How much is going on out there,” he said, gesturing around him. Louis nodded, his eyelids heavy.

Harry pondered the boy in front of him. He seemed curious and thoughtful. He seemed genuinely interested in people, like a born leader. “Do you ever think about going to college?” Harry asked, noticing Louis’ interest.

“Nah, I’m not smart enough,” Louis said, shaking his head.

“You don’t need to be that smart,” Harry said, gazing up at the sky in thought. Louis let out a burst of laughter.

“Thanks!” he said sarcastically. Harry understood the reaction.

“Oh! What I meant was, you’re plenty smart, Louis! Definitely smart enough! But it’s just not a prerequisite, that’s all,” he explained with a smile.

“So you go to those protests and stuff?” Louis asked. Harry smiled and nodded.

“I do, yeah. After the one on my campus, and seeing Niall get arrested, I realized how important it is,” Harry explained.

“You don’t think it’s useless? I mean, the war is still going on. No one is listening,” Louis replied candidly, his smile dropping away. Harry was taken aback by Louis’ honesty, but he understood the idea; it was a common sentiment among those who were generally pessimistic about the Vietnam conflict and the antiwar effort.

“That’s not true though. People are listening. The White House knows how unpopular this war is. And that’s because of the protests,” Harry tried to explain. “It would be silly to do nothing, simply under the impression that nothing will ever change.”

“Right, but. Men are still being drafted every day. It’s not even slowing down,” Louis explained, looking at the sky too now, dark blue and dotted with stars. The rainclouds had cleared and the air had cooled. The beautiful voice of Joan Baez could be heard through the speakers in the distance, rolling lazily across the fields. A quiet calmness had settled over the festival.

Harry simply nodded. Although he disliked the pessimistic attitude, he understood. He knew people who were drafted, and even some who had been killed. Harry followed Louis’ gaze to the sky. Out here in the middle of nowhere the night sky was brilliant. Even the bright stage lights couldn’t drown out the millions of stars.

“All I know is, this is the first time a war has been so televised. It’s being broadcast into the living rooms of Americans all across the country. That definitely means something,” Harry tried, hoping to express a positive outlook, even though Louis clearly had such a negative one.

It was Louis’ turn to simply nod.

“I know, I probably sound like a silly hippie. Spouting _give peace a chance_ and such,” Harry said, smiling once again.

Louis laughed. “No, no. You don’t sound silly. It’s nice to hear optimism actually,” he replied. “You have a cause, a direction. That’s nice. You may be a bit of a dreamer but… I can appreciate that,” he finished, looking directly into Harry’s big, brilliant green eyes now.

“And what has made you such a pessimist? At the ripe age of…” Harry paused. They hadn’t discussed their ages yet. “How old are you?” he asked with a laugh.

“I’m twenty two,” Louis laughed. “And I’m not a pessimist.”

“I know, I know,” Harry said with a nod, “And I’m twenty.” Louis smiled as he shoved a burnt marshmallow into his mouth. “And what do you do? What’s your direction?” Harry asked, a more serious tone to his voice now.

“Um… I work at a grocery store,” Louis replied with a flippant chuckle.

“Is that what you want to do, in life?” Harry asked.

“No, it’s just what I’m doing at the moment,” Louis replied, shrugging off Harry’s evident attempt to get Louis to say more. “So, a twenty-year-old smarty, hippy college boy who is trying to save the world. And who likes to be naked,” Louis observed, smiling mischievously at Harry.

“And a twenty-two-year-old realist who doesn’t know how smart he is. Or his place in the world, yet,” Harry replied, holding Louis’ gaze.

Louis blushed and dropped his eyes after a moment.

 

Zayn’s voice interrupted their quiet conversation.

“Louis, I’m gonna head back to the tent,” Zayn said with a yawn, standing up. Louis pulled himself back to the present and looked over to Zayn.

“Okay, I’ll head there with you,” Louis said softly, stealing a quick glance back to Harry.

“Meet up with us tomorrow?” Liam suggested.

“Yeah, Quill is on at noon,” Niall jumped in. “We should head down to the stage together!”

Louis and Harry made eye contact again. “Yeah, you guys should definitely come with us,” Harry added.

“We’ll meet here just before noon, then?” Zayn asked, looking to Louis.

“Yeah, we’ll meet here,” Louis confirmed.

“Awesome!” Liam exclaimed as he began to put out the campfire.

“Our camp is close anyway,” Zayn said as him and Louis made to leave. They all said goodbye and Zayn and Louis thanked the boys for the food and the fun evening.

Harry watched them leave. His brain felt fuzzy, but he knew he was still in awe over the boy who had just walked away. It had been a long time since he had felt butterflies about another person. Too long, Harry thought, recognizing the butterflies in his stomach. He hadn’t even realized how busy he had kept himself over the past two years, worrying about the newspaper and foreign policy and the antiwar effort. He was beginning to realize how right Niall had been when he had told Harry they all needed a break.

A star winked at him as he gazed at the sky once again. This felt like something special. Surrounded by all these people, all coming together for their common desire for nothing but peace and love and music, he felt right. And he thought just maybe he had found one particular person he could share this contentment with, for however long it lasted.

 

…


	2. Chapter 2

On Saturday morning, the second day of the festival, the boys awoke to an overcast sky and a tired but contented crowd, ready for that day’s musical acts.

Louis and Zayn made good on their promise to meet up with the other boys right before noon. Harry found himself grinning ear to ear when he saw them walking up to the camp. Louis wore the same low key t-shirt and denim shorts. Zayn wore a leather vest and brown cords, and several long necklaces hanging down to his bare chest. His wrists were packed with bracelets. The five of them shared a breakfast of trail mix and quiet, sleepy conversation.

Harry, dressed in nothing but tiny yellow shorts, chatted with Louis and Niall about music. Harry still could not keep his eyes from Louis. He was enthralled by the small boy’s vibrant mannerisms as he talked about the things he was interested in. It turns out they both had a deep love for Dylan’s early acoustic music, and had been disappointed to find he wouldn’t be performing at the festival. Harry felt butterflies in his stomach again after learning that they shared the same taste in music. It was a small thing, he knew, but it felt important in one way or another.

Zayn and Liam discussed the upcoming March on Washington. It turned out Zayn too was interested in the antiwar effort, and some of his posters had even been bought by larger campaigns like the University Vietnam Peace Committee and GIs for Peace.

Halfway through breakfast a girl, looking quite stoned, wandered into their camp with a basketful of flowers.

“Buy some flowers to support the World Wildlife Fund?” she drawled in a thick Southern accent.

“I’ll buy some flowers,” Harry said, standing up to find his backpack. He paid the girl one dollar for six daisies. Harry took them, smiling and thanking the girl, as the other boys giggled.

“Harry, why are you buying daisies from stoned chicks?” Niall asked with a laugh.

“I’m supporting the World Wildlife whatever,” Harry replied, sitting back down next to Louis with his flowers.

Harry knew immediately what he wanted to do with them. He leaned over to Louis when the other boys had settled into conversation again.

“These are for you,” Harry said softly, handing the bouquet to Louis.

“For me?” Louis asked, surprised. He blushed as he looked down at the grass.

When he looked back up at Harry, Harry’s green eyes were bright with anticipation as he watched Louis. Louis took the flowers, his hands brushing against Harry’s hands. He brought the daisies up to his nose and smelled their sweetness. He touched the soft petals with his fingertips, suddenly overcome with emotion.

Louis plucked one daisy out of the bouquet and broke the stem to make it smaller. “But one for you,” he said softly as he reached forward to tuck the flower behind Harry’s ear, into his curly hair.

It was Harry’s turn to smile coyly now. They looked at each other, getting lost in the moment.

 

They were pulled out of their daydream by Niall’s loud voice. “Let’s have a quick hit before we go down to the stage,” he suggested, standing up.

Louis and Harry were quiet as Niall packed his bowl with weed and took a hit. They exchanged shy glances and little smiles, their feet touching where they were spread out on the ground.

The passed the bowl around a few times, each boy taking a few hits.

“Okay, let’s get going,” Liam said when the weed was done, each boy sufficiently high. He stood up and offered his hand to pull up Zayn.

Louis and Harry stood as well. They were both giggling now, bumping into one another and knocking their hands together. Louis placed his flowers delicately on Harry’s sleeping bag at the edge of the tent.

The five boys walked unhurriedly through the rows of tents and campsites down to the stage together. It was slow going as they couldn’t stop giggling and stopping here and there to chat with people.

 

The ground had dried a bit and the area in front of the stage was not quite as muddy as the night before. It was absolutely packed, as expected. The five boys jostled for a spot close to the stage to watch the performance. Quill was just beginning their set as the boys arrived. With the help of the crowd, Louis and Harry found themselves pressed together, dancing to the music once again.

It was energizing, and their lack of a good night’s sleep on the hard ground was soon forgotten. It was noon and the day was getting hot. They were sweating in no time, pressed against one another and getting closer the more people that came into the crowd as the set went on.

Eventually Harry decided to throw caution to the wind and he grasped onto Louis’ hips, pressing them together further. Harry gently ground himself into Louis, still holding his hips, Louis tentatively resting his hands on Harry’s chest. And nobody around them cared. Couples were making out in the crowd, many already stoned for the day.

“Have you ever done anything like this before?” Harry asked Louis, leaning in and yelling into his ear to be heard over the music.

“Done what?” Louis yelled back. Harry smiled, holding their bodies together, swaying to the music. He changed the point of his original question, deciding to go with a lighter subject.

“Been to a music festival?” he asked. Louis shook his head.

“Zayn dragged me along. Said I needed a fun time before-” he stopped himself mid-sentence.

“Before what?” Harry asked as he moved his hands to Louis’ back, pulling him closer.

“Before it all ends. Before this whole counter-culture, rebellion, free love thing is over. He said I need to experience it at least once,” Louis finished, looking around them instead of at Harry. Harry nodded.

“Well, I’m glad you came along with Zayn. I’m glad you’re here,” Harry said, looking Louis in the eyes. Louis began chewing on his bottom lip again.

“I’m glad I’m here, too,” Louis said, speaking softer, though Harry could still make out his words. Louis let his hands slide across Harry’s naked chest.

Harry dipped his head to press his forehead against Louis’ forehead. The music was so loud, thumping in his ears, he could barely think. He felt a little lightheaded, but knew it was not the heat. They swayed to the music, pressed together, their breaths swirling together, Harry holding Louis close, Louis’ hands on Harry’s sweat-sleek chest.

Harry looked around them. Zayn and Liam were a few feet away, dancing together as well. Niall was nowhere in sight. He was suddenly very aware of him and Louis, pressed together in the sea of people. Suddenly Louis was the only person he wanted to be with. He wanted to hold him and never let go. Harry leaned his head back down to press his forehead against Louis’. He closed his eyes. He felt Louis’ hands on his chest, his hips pressed against Louis’, his own hands around Louis’ small waist.

Louis’ scent was intoxicating. They were sweaty, and he smelled of earth and weed and something else wonderfully sweet. He was overwhelmed with the desire to taste him, to have Louis’ mouth on his lips. Harry moved his head so his mouth was against Louis’ ear.

“Can I kiss you?” he breathed. He felt Louis tense a little at the words, and almost expected him to say no. But he didn’t say no. Instead, he nodded, very slightly.

Harry moved his head back around to face Louis. He leaned forward, brushing his lips very softly against Louis’ lips, feeling Louis react to the touch. Louis sucked in a breath and smiled softly at the touch of Harry’s lips on his. Harry very lightly kissed the corner of Louis’ mouth, and then the other corner. Louis was shaking; Harry could feel it in his hands and against his hips.

Harry opened his mouth just slightly, and kissed Louis’ lips. Louis kissed back, tentative at first, and then more confidently. Harry licked across Louis’ lips and Louis opened his mouth to it.

They stood in the crowd, holding onto one another, kissing, and still swaying to the music. It was one of the best kisses Harry had ever experienced. He didn’t want to move away from Louis or to ever stop kissing him. It felt so passionate, but so raw. There was something about Louis, he was often unwilling to be vulnerable, but in rare instances he could open up. Harry saw that. He was beginning to learn about this boy. About this strange boy who came into his life in this wonderful way, at this wonderful festival.

There was so much love in the air. So much affection and openness and peace. It felt peaceful, harmonious. Although there was so much going on and so many people, there was something about this place, about all these people coming together for the music and the fun, and just to spend time together. Three days of peace and music. Harry knew in that moment he had to take full advantage of this unique situation. This was truly something special.

 

When the set was over, Zayn and Liam convinced Harry and Louis to go with them to paint their faces. Niall had abandoned them ages ago.

The four boys followed another group to a tent not far from the stage where people had set up face paints and stencils and mirrors.

They had fun with it, painting each other’s faces with bright colors. Harry made dots under Louis’ eyes and another hand print across his cheek, this time bright orange.

“Your hand is so big it covers the entire side of my face!” Louis exclaimed, seeing the print on his cheek. Louis gave Harry swirly designs in blue and purple on his forehead and cheekbones, and his own orange hand print across Harry’s opposite cheek.

“And your hand is little, but they go good together!” Harry observed as they examined their painted faces in the mirror, smirking at one another in the reflection.

There were several other people in the tent, playing with the paints and chatting and smoking.

“Hey, guys. You ever dropped acid?” a tall thin boy standing next to them asked. He was there with his girlfriend, who was topless, her breasts painted bright pink. The boy’s long hair was perched in a bun at the top of his head and his face was painted like a leopard. Harry and Louis looked at each other.

“Um, no,” Louis replied.

“Me neither,” Harry said, quirking an eyebrow at Louis.

“We’ve got a bunch of it!” the girl said excitedly. “You guys should come along!” Harry and Louis looked at each other again, and Harry shrugged.

“Why not?” he said, smiling at Louis.

“As long as Zayn and Liam can come too?” Louis asked gesturing to their friends on the other side of the tent.

“Of course!” the girl replied excitedly as she grabbed her boyfriend’s hand, “Follow us!” The next thing they knew, the four boys were following two strangers through the crowd to their tent.

 

It was large, and filled with pillows and blankets. The boys crawled inside and settled in as the leopard boy rifled through a small plastic baggie full with other smaller baggies.

“Are you sure this is okay?” Louis whispered to Harry.

“It’ll be okay. We’re all here together,” Harry whispered back, taking Louis’ hand. Zayn and Liam looked comfortable at his other side. He wasn’t worried.

Leopard boy passed around the drug, giving each person one small green pill. Harry held the pill between two fingers and looked closely at it. It was stamped with a little black star.

“Just put it on your tongue. It’ll dissolve quick,” the boy instructed, his topless girlfriend giggling next to him.

Harry and Louis looked at each other once more. “Good luck, babe,” Harry said with a grin.

“Babe?” Louis asked, returning the smile. Harry shrugged.

“Felt right,” he said, the cheeky grin still on his face. “Same time?” he asked, bringing the small green pill closer to his mouth.

“Same time,” Louis said with a nod. Still holding hands, Louis and Harry brought their other hands to their mouths and popped the LSD onto their tongues.

It did dissolve quickly. Harry noted a bitter flavor before the pill was gone. He swallowed, looking at Louis, waiting for something, not knowing what to expect.

It hit quickly and slowly at the same time. Harry noticed himself grinning, and could see Louis was grinning as well. The walls of the tent began to undulate.

“It must be windy,” Harry said, or at least thought he said out loud. He had a strange sensation on his skin, not uncomfortable, but something like the feeling of grass tickling one’s feet.

“Whoa,” Louis said softly.

“What?” Harry asked. He thought his voice sounded strange.

“Your hair. Your hair is moving,” Louis said through giggles. “And the swirls on your face…” his voice faded as he blinked at Harry.

“Are you holding my hand?” Harry asked, lifting his left hand and seeing that it was still attached to Louis’. It looked strange though, their hands connected. Like one long arm extending into another arm, and then widening, becoming a whole other person on the other end.

“It’s like we’re one person,” Harry observed nonsensically.

“They sky. They sky, it’s up there,” Louis said, staring up at the ceiling of the tent now.

“Let’s go outside!” Zayn suggested happily.

“Yeah!” Harry agreed with a shout. He stood up quickly, tugging Louis up with him.

They moved out of the tent and into the open air. It was the middle of the afternoon, although not too hot, as rainclouds were beginning to collect once again.

“Far out!” Liam exclaimed loudly, looking up at the sky. “It’s so big!”

“Whoa,” Louis said softly, tugging on Harry’s hand. Harry turned his attention to Louis. “The grass.”

“What about it?” Harry asked, paying more attention to the people around them who had taken on an odd, cartoonish quality.

“It’s eating my feet. It tickles,” Louis said calmly, staring down at his feet. Harry looked down at the grass. It looked like it was moving, each blade an individual entity, running along, bumping into the other blades, being flattened by feet.

“Look at the people!” Harry exclaimed, looking up once again. He felt overwhelmed, but in an oddly comfortable way.

“This is far-out,” Zayn observed, looking around in fascination as though he was seeing the world for the first time.

“Let’s hold hands,” Liam suggested, grabbing Zayn’s hand. Zayn grabbed Louis’ hand, who had Harry’s hand in his other one.

“We’re like a chain. Like a chain of ants,” Louis said, his voice airy and dreamlike.

The boys made their way, holding hands, along the rows of tents. They were farther from the stage so the crowd was not dense, but rather just rows and rows of campsites, with people lingering here and there, talking and smoking and drinking and eating.

Harry felt like was floating. He knew his feet were touching the ground, but the earth felt like air. He held tight to Louis’ hand, not wanting to lose him or the group.

They wandered around the grounds for the next few hours, stopping here and there to talk to people or eat a little something they were offered, or just pause to listen to the music. They came across so many different types of people from all walks of life. People from across the country were here. They met a bunch of groups from as far away as California, people who had taken road trips just for Woodstock, just to be here for this three day event.

People were happy and incredibly friendly, and most definitely open-minded and unabashed. The boys saw more than one couple openly making love in front of their tents. Harry stared for a little too long and they had to forcibly drag him away.

They bought bags of popcorn and ended up having a popcorn fight. Harry had his fortune read by a man dressed as a banana, although he was likely more high than the boys were, as he really just babbled nonsensically at Harry for ten minutes. They played cards with a group of older men wearing only American flag boxer shorts, and Liam lost his shoes to one of them.

Everywhere they looked there were strange people doing strange things. They came across a circus group and Harry tried to show off his juggling skills, although couldn’t manage it while high. He kept claiming the fruit he was given to juggle with was burning his hands.

 

“This is fun,” Louis observed out loud as the day wore on. “I hadn’t expected it be so fun.”

“You didn’t expect it to be fun?” Harry asked, slightly distracted by the way Zayn’s necklaces looked like they were alive, like snakes around his neck.

“I didn’t know what to expect, but…” Louis’ voice faded as he stared up at the sky.

“But what?” Harry asked, turning to Louis. He found himself reaching out and brushing Louis’ hair away from his face. They stood quiet for a moment, looking at one another again. Harry had to look down, as he was several inches taller than Louis, but he was suddenly overcome with how beautiful Louis was. His gaze was piercing. He had grown some facial scruff overnight, and it complemented his sharp jaw line. “You’re so beautiful, Louis,” Harry found himself saying as he ran the backs of his fingers down Louis’ neck.

Louis was taken aback, but pleased by Harry’s openness. He smiled a dreamy smile back at Harry.

“How did you get to be the way you are?” he asked softly, Harry’s hand still on his neck. Louis wondered if it was just the drugs that made him ask such a question. Harry tilted his head to the side as though pondering the question.

“You have to be who you are, Louis. You don’t need to hold anything back. At least not with me,” Harry replied wistfully as he tenderly stroked Louis’ neck.

Louis felt his face heat up. He didn’t know if it was the August heat or Harry’s words, but he felt lightheaded. “Thank you,” he said softly, looking down at the ground once again.

 

They finally wandered back to their campsite around dinner time, as twilight was beginning to set in, and their highs were beginning to wear off.

The boys sprawled out on their sleeping bags under the starry sky. Thankfully the rain had kept away for the rest of the day.

Louis curled up next to Harry, Harry wrapping his arm around Louis’ shoulders. They gazed up at the sky together, only slightly stoned now, a warm and content feeling spreading through the boys, and seemingly through the crowd in general.

“The sky really is amazing. It looks like that guy,” Harry began to babble as he let his fingers wander over Louis’ chest.

“The sky looks like a guy?” Louis asked, and then began to giggle. “Ha, that rhymes!” Harry chuckled next to him.

“No, I mean I see what that guy was thinking. When he painted the sky. The guy, you know, who painted the sky?” Harry tried to explain through his haze.

“I know who you mean,” Liam offered, “The one who cut off his ear.”

“Yes! Yes, the one who cut off his ear!” Harry said excitedly, “It really looks like the way he painted it. With the stars, and such. In that painting, the starry sky, or whatever,” Harry babbled.

“Look at you, fancy college kid,” Louis teased, turning his face to look at Harry.

“I can’t remember his name, though,” Harry complained. The boys went silent for a moment, each lost in his own thoughts.

“He cut off his ear? That’s fucked,” Louis finally said after several minutes of silence. The other boys burst out laughing. “What?” Louis asked incredulously, “That’s fucked!”

“You were thinking of that the whole time?” Zayn asked, still smirking.

“Well, he was insane, or something. He never sold any of his art,” Liam added.

“That’s sad. To never sell any of your art,” Harry observed sadly.

“Yeah. That’s fucked, too,” Zayn replied, and Liam giggled.

They lay on the sleeping bags, staring up at the sky, and listening to the dull sound of the crowd around them and the music down on the stage. Louis snuggled close to Harry, pulling in his heat.

“Are you cold, babe?” Harry asked softly, happy to hold Louis so close. Louis nodded, pushing his face into Harry’s shoulder. Harry sat up and grabbed Niall’s unused sleeping bag. He pulled it over to the two of them and tucked it around Louis’ shoulders, covering his arms. Harry was lying on his side now, propped on an elbow, and kept his body pressed up close to Louis, who was on his back. “Is that better?” he asked, pressing a quick kiss into Louis’ neck.

“Yes, much better,” Louis replied quietly, focusing his gaze on Harry. They stared at each other for a long moment, lost in their thoughts.

“Louis?” Harry finally asked, still gazing down at Louis.

“Yes, Harry?” Louis responded.

“Where did you come from?” Harry asked, a soft smile on his face. Louis giggled at the question.

“I came from Connecticut,” he replied with a grin. Harry placed his hand on Louis’ belly and began to draw small circles across his shirt. He took a deep breath, inhaling the cool dampness of the earth around them, and the warmth of Louis pressed up next to him. He felt pensive and faraway. Louis blinked up at him, the moonlight reflected in his eyes.

“I think you came from the stars,” Harry whispered, leaning down to once again to whisper against Louis’ mouth. He brushed their noses together and inhaled deeply.

“Harry?” Louis whispered back.

“Mm?” Harry hummed, closing his eyes.

“Kiss me?” Louis asked, wrapping an arm around Harry to pull him closer. And he did. He kissed Louis, slow and deep. They moved their lips together, taking their time, exploring one another, Harry setting the rhythm. Feeling Louis’ solid presence beneath him was grounding and comforting.

They kissed for several minutes. Liam and Zayn didn’t mind, or even seem to notice. They were lost in their own conversation.

Time seemed to stand still and speed up at the same time. Kissing in each other’s arms, Harry and Louis allowed themselves to lose track of time. They could hear the bass thumping in the distance, complemented by distant rumbles of thunder.

 

When the current musician’s set ended and the farm went much quieter for a moment, Harry and Louis finally snapped back to attention.

Harry sat up a bit and looked around. Their surroundings were quiet and calm at the moment, most people had gone down to the stage to watch the evening artists perform. He looked back to Louis, who looked proper ruffled. His shirt was up around his chest and his hair was tousled, his lips red and puffy from the kissing. Harry couldn’t help but giggle.

“What?” Louis asked, smiling up at Harry. His eyes shone bright, reflecting the moonlight.

“Nothing,” Harry replied, leaning back down to give Louis a quick peck on the lips before sitting all the way up. Louis followed, glancing over at Liam and Zayn who were lost in conversation still.

“You wanna walk around a bit?” Harry asked.

“Yeah, let’s explore,” Louis agreed. “Oy, we’re headed out for a bit!” Louis said loudly to catch the other boys’ attentions. They barely acknowledged Louis and Harry.

Harry stood up, offering a hand to pull Louis up as well. They stood and looked around. Many of the camps around them were empty now, and the crowd by the stage was growing large.

“We’ll be back by the time The Dead is on,” Louis yelled back as the two of them headed out of their camp.

They walked for several minutes, hand in hand, stopping here and there to chat or observe people playing instruments or making art. Now that they were in the second night of the festival, people’s camps had become elaborate. People had brought all sorts of things to do and to sell, and different foods to make or drugs to take.

 

“Let’s stop here and talk to these guys,” Louis said after about an hour of wandering. He gestured to a medium-sized campsite with a large hand-painted sign over the top that read _VIETNAM VETERANS FOR PEACE_.

Louis pulled Harry along to the site. There were three men sitting in front of their tent, chatting and roasting hot dogs over a fire.

“Hey,” Louis greeted as they walked up to the fire.

“Well hello there, boys!” one of the men greeted. “Care for a hot dog?”

“Sounds great!” Harry said enthusiastically. They made themselves comfortable and introduced themselves.

“So you guys are veterans? You’ve been to Vietnam?” Louis asked after they introduced themselves. Only the man who had greeted them had given his name, which was Freddy.

“Yup! And we’re here for peace!” another one of the men exclaimed. He was not old, but had long hair and a full bushy beard. He wore an American flag bandana, a tie-dyed shirt, and boxer shorts.

“It’s a lie. It’s all lies,” the third man muttered loudly, not making eye contact with either Harry or Louis.

“What’s a lie?” Harry ventured to ask. The man’s attention snapped to Harry now.

“What the government told us! Uncle Sam! The bastard!” the man shouted. As he raised his arms in exclamation it became visible that one of his hands was severely disfigured.

“John’s had a hard time of it. As we all have,” Freddy explained sadly, as though this was enough to explain his odd behavior.

“We’re here for peace, too,” Harry offered, an attempt to change the conversation.

“That’s good. That’s a good thing! You college kids. You gotta be the ones to make a change! Because they sure as hell ain’t listenin’ to the rest of us!” the tie-dyed man replied. Harry nodded as though he understood.

“Do you think it’ll end soon?” Louis asked. Harry was surprised by his question.

“Not as long as Nixon’s in office!” tie-dyed man spoke again.

“There’s little end in sight. After the assassination last year we had some hope. But… with the troop surge, and the peace talks continuing to be shut down… seems hopeless,” Freddy tried to answer. He massaged his knee as he spoke.

“Your knee okay?” Harry asked.

“I landed bad on it after parachuting into Hanoi during my service. And the goddamn VA is giving me a hard time about the injury. It’s all a damn train wreck,” Freddy spoke, weariness in his voice.

“Don’t go! You’re still young, you boys! Get out in any way you can! I’m not joking, trust me on this one. You get drafted, you leave the country!” John began to babble again. Harry nodded, but Freddy shook his head. The tie dyed man mumbled something under his breath.

“You really think it’s hopeless?” Louis asked, suddenly sounding younger than twenty two.

“It’s been hopeless,” John muttered as he poked at his hot dog.

“Well, that’s not why we’re here,” Freddy tried to explain, “We don’t want the next generation to be hopeless, but… You need the facts. You need to be informed.”

Louis and Harry both nodded, although they didn’t completely understand. Harry tried to hold the conversation for another few minutes, but could tell Louis was no longer as eager to participate.

Harry squeezed Louis’ knee and when Louis did not respond, Harry knew it was probably time to move on.

“Well, it was really nice talking to you. We learned a lot,” Harry tried to say as they stood up to leave.

“Just don’t go to ‘Nam. Whatever you do!” the tie-dyed man warned, his eyes wide but unfocused. Harry nodded, trying to leave in a polite manner. “Really, run to Canada, run to fucking Mexico! Don’t let yourself be drafted! It would be better to swallow cyanide!” he continued.

“Thank you!” Harry called back as Louis dragged him away. They walked quickly, Louis still holding tight to Harry’s wrist, until they were far out of sight of the veteran’s camp.

 

“Jesus, I’m sorry. That was a mistake,” Louis explained, shaking his head as they slowed their pace once again.

“Don’t apologize, Louis. It’s okay. They were fine,” Harry tried to reason. Louis was clearly upset.

“No, that was dumb. I don’t know why I made us talk to them,” Louis said, his head bowed.

“Well, I’m sure under the craziness they have some interesting things to say, some interesting stories,” Harry offered, still trying to reassure Louis. Louis kicked at the ground and looked towards the stage.

“Let’s just head back to camp,” he said, turning to head in the direction of their camp. Harry followed behind, knowing he felt bad, but not quite sure why.

“We’ll meet up with Zayn and Liam in time to head down to the stage for The Dead,” Harry said, agreeing on the change of subject “I know Liam is super excited about them.” Louis nodded in agreement as they made their way back to Harry, Niall, and Liam’s campsite.

They walked slowly but determinedly now, not stopping ot make conversation. There was silence between them as well.

 

When they got there, Liam and Zayn were not outside the tent, but some of their things were lying around.

“Are they in the tent?” Louis wondered out loud. He stepped over the blankets and sleeping bags strewn about and pushed the tent flap aside with one arm to step inside, Harry behind him.

Inside the tent, Liam and Zayn were lying down, making out, Zayn on top of Liam, Liam’s legs wrapped around Zayn’s waist.

“Oh, shit! Sorry!” Louis stammered, surprised to walk in on such a scene. Zayn and Liam were startled out of their private time.

“What the fuck, Louis!” Zayn said loudly, as Liam started to laugh.

“What?” Harry asked as he bumped into Louis, not expecting him to stop in his tracks. Louis took a step backwards, landing on Harry’s foot.

“Oh, fuck,” Louis exclaimed as he stumbled backwards. Harry caught him with both arms. With Louis not blocking the tent entrance, Harry caught a glimpse of what had caused Louis to startle.

“Oh, shit! Having a nice time?” Harry yelled with a smirk as the tent flap fell closed again and Louis tried to stand himself upright.

“Jesus, a little warning, a sign on the tent would have been nice,” Louis complained as he kicked at the sleeping bags around the camp.

“They’re just being spontaneous,” Harry said, a smile still on his face.

“So I guess you no longer care about _The Grateful Dead_ , hmm?” Louis shouted, loud enough so the boys inside the tent would hear, emphasizing exactly who they were missing. There was no response.

“Leave them be,” Harry remarked as he grabbed Louis’ hand. “Let’s go to your tent.” Harry pulled Louis out of the campsite and towards Louis and Zayn’s tent. They walked for a moment in silence, Louis beginning to smile now at the scene that had just occurred.

“You know,” Louis began, a weak smile on his face, “I never thought Zayn was the type. Hooking up with a random guy at a music festival.”

“What’s wrong with that?” Harry replied, still holding Louis’ hand. “And we’re not random. Not anymore.”

“Oh, no, I didn’t mean… I know you’re not random…” Louis tried to backtrack and explain his words. He frowned, unsure of how to explain himself. It was the first time they had ever even hovered over the topic of this being something other than a causal, weekend thing.

“It’s okay, babe,” Harry replied quickly. They walked for another few minutes to Louis and Zayn’s camp, which was much less established than the other boys’.

 

They headed into the small tent. Louis sat cross-legged on his sleeping bag, a frown on his face still. Harry looked around the tent. There were just the two sleeping bags, two backpacks, one for each boy, and a small bag which likely contained some food.

“Wow, you guys didn’t bring much, did you,” Harry teased.

“Yes, that was the plan. To just meet other people and mooch off them,” Louis joked, although he was not smiling. Harry frowned as well at the dismissive comment. He wanted to say something, knew he should, but he didn’t know what.

“Louis, are you okay?” Harry asked gently, sitting down now across from Louis, their knees almost touching.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m fine. Just… tired,” Louis replied, brushing off the observation with a wave of his hand. Harry hadn’t known Louis for long, but he already knew this was about something other than catching Liam and Zayn making out in the tent.

“Louis, talk to me. What’s wrong?” Harry asked gently, placing both hands on Louis’ knees. Louis took a deep breath and scrunched his nose, as though fighting with himself about whether or not to reveal something. Outside the tent, things had fallen quiet. Most of the festival goers had moved down to the stage to watch the show, which would be one of the headlining acts of the festival. There was the occasional laughter in the distance, or the sound of a group walking by the tent, and then fading away. Even the music had gone silent. Mountain had finished their set at ten o’clock, and The Grateful Dead was not on until almost eleven.

“I just… just those guys… those veterans,” Louis began slowly. Harry nodded. He already knew that’s what this was about, although couldn’t figure out exactly why they had bothered Louis so much.

“What about them?” Harry asked softly, keeping a firm hold of Louis’ knees.

“They were just so…” but Louis faded. He couldn’t think of the words.

“Louis, they were just crazy old men,” Harry tried. But Louis looked shocked, even offended at those words.

“They’re not crazy, they’re shell-shocked!” Louis said loudly, leaning backwards away from Harry. Harry blinked a few times, startled.

“I… I didn’t mean… sorry, not crazy,” Harry stuttered, trying to take away his statement and think of another way of wording what he meant.

“They’ve been to _war_ , Harry. They’ve seen it first-hand. They’ve been wounded. And probably even killed people,” Louis said, his brow knit, his eyes swimming with anger and confusion.

“No, I… I know,” Harry tried.

“You can march in your protests and watch bombs explode on the television, but actually having been there… I can’t imagine,” Louis said, his voice still strong but his face going softer as he gazed around at the tent, losing himself in thought. “And they weren’t even that old,” he added after a moment.

“I know. I know, Louis. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like… like it came out. I know they’re shell-shocked… And I know they’re not all like that, too.” Harry said. He considered trying to talk about that being the reason why they were protesting the war, but he decided against it. Louis seemed like he didn’t want to discuss that at the moment.

They sat quiet for a few minutes, listening to the crowd in the distance. Thunder had begun to rumble again, and a distant flash of lightning momentarily lit up the inside of the dim tent. Harry could see Louis’ face. He looked like he was deep in thought about something. His blue eyes were still bright as ever, but suddenly Harry noticed dark circles underneath that he hadn’t noticed before. He looked tired, and confused as he chewed on his bottom lip. Harry thought he looked like he was debating something.

 

After a moment, Harry spoke up again. “What are you thinking about?” he asked softly. Louis pulled himself out of his contemplations and brought his attention back to Harry, making eye contact now.

“I love that you’re such a dreamer. That you really believe that peace is possible, and that you can make a difference…” Louis said softly as he fiddled with the fabric of his pants. “But I guess to me it still feels… impossible. All I can see is the reality of it.”

“I know I can make a difference if I just keep fighting, even in little ways,” Harry tried to explain.

“We’re just so mired so deep in this muck…” Louis said, shaking his head.

Then his demeanor changed. He looked up at Harry, resolve on his face. “I want to show you something,” he spoke. He turned and reached behind him to grab a backpack. He unzipped it and began to rifle through its contents.

Eventually, Louis pulled out an envelope, folded in half and crumpled looking. Harry looked at it curiously. He noticed Louis’ hands were shaking.

Louis unfolded the envelope. Harry felt his heart drop when he noticed the seal on the front: Selective Service System. He knew immediately. It made sense now.

“Oh, Louis,” Harry breathed. His hands began to shake as well, and he grabbed his own knees now to hide it. Louis opened the envelope and pulled out the sheet of paper inside. He didn’t make eye contact with Harry as he carefully unfolded it, nodding.

“That’s right. As of September 1st, my body belongs to the US Government,” he explained with a detached sigh.

“When… when did you get this?” Harry asked, watching Louis look at the sheet of paper as though his death sentence was written on it. Louis cleared his throat and looked up at Harry now.

“Two weeks ago,” Louis replied simply.

“Who else knows?” Harry asked.

“It came to my parent’s house. So they know, of course. And Zayn,” Louis explained, “That’s why Zayn brought me here. He thought I needed a last…. That I just needed some fun.”

Harry nodded. They remained quiet for a moment before Harry brought his hands to Louis’ hands that were grasping the paper. He held them tight in Louis’ lap.

“I brought it with me… I bring it everywhere… just to remind me… that this is the last-”

“Stop,” Harry said quickly, “Stop. You can’t think like that.”

“Harry, over thirty thousand American soldiers have been killed so far. And we’re nowhere near the end,” Louis said. He took another deep, shuddering breath. “Listen, I know I should be honored to fight for my country…” he tried, but his voice faded and he had to blink back tears.

“Louis,” Harry said softly. He didn’t know what else to say. He had no words of comfort. They sat together in silence. Harry looked down at the paper now. It was addressed to Louis Tomlinson.

 

_Louis Tomlinson,_

_You are hereby directed to present yourself for United States Armed Forces induction…_

 

Harry clenched his jaw against a flood of emotion. He stared at the name. Harry realized he hadn’t even known Louis’ last name. It suddenly seemed like an incredible and disturbing oversight.

Harry gently took the letter in his own hands and pulled it away from Louis. He carefully placed it to the side, and then brought his hands back to Louis, placing them on Louis’ thighs. It didn’t feel like there were any more words to be said.

Louis looked up at Harry. His eyes looked darker now: full of worry. Harry leaned forward and pressed his lips to Louis’ lips. Louis leaned into the kiss. Harry brought his hands to Louis’ face and cupped his cheeks, his thumbs wiping away the tear tracks there that had left lines down the dust and paint on Louis’ face.

Outside, the wind was picking up. The walls of the tent were beginning to rustle in the breeze. The air was thick with humidity.

Harry licked into Louis’ mouth and Louis let him, opening up for him. Harry leaned forward, pushing Louis back, their mouths still connected. Harry braced himself on one arm as he landed on top of Louis, his hips fitting perfectly between Louis’ open legs.

Louis made himself comfortable, lying back across the sleeping bags. Harry was a comforting presence on top of him, and he knew he should simply let this happen. He wrapped his arms around Harry’s back, pulling him closer. They were already breathing heavily with heat and arousal. Their hair stuck to their sweaty foreheads. The air around them was heavy.

The light pitter patter of drizzle could be heard against the tent. Down on the stage the melodic, twangy chords of The Grateful Dead beginning to play could be heard echoing across the fields. The monstrous crowd was cheering in the far distance. It was a curiously ghostly sound.

Harry gently rocked his hips down against Louis’ hips. Louis matched the motion by bucking his hips upwards. They could feel each other, both already growing hard.

Harry kissed Louis with every bit of energy and emotion and passion that had built up over the past day. He had wanted this to happen, but now that it was, there was an intensity he had not expected. It did not feel random or perfunctory or transient.

“Louis,” Harry whispered, breathless already, “I want to touch you.” Louis gazed up at Harry. He brought one hand back around to touch Harry’s face. He brushed Harry’s hair out of his eyes and ran his fingers along Harry’s jaw line.

“This… this isn’t just stoned make-out sessions, then?” he asked softly with a smile, although his eyes betrayed a hint of concern.

“I’m not stoned anymore. Are you?” Harry asked, his mouth still just inches from Louis’ mouth. Louis shook his head. “Okay, good,” Harry replied, and kissed Louis again.

Louis pulled Harry close once again, and Harry began to grind against him. Louis wrapped his legs around Harry’s hips. They could hear the wonderful music in the distance: the dreamy, folksy guitar riffs, bluesy-psychedelic piano chords, the melodic vocals.

After a few minutes, Harry reached slowly down and cupped Louis’ hardness in his hand, over his pants. Louis groaned with the touch, inviting Harry to press deeper into the touch. Louis moved his hips against Harry’s hand. He fumbled with the zipper of Harry’s pants for a moment, but his hands were still shaking.

“I got it,” Harry said softly, moving his hand away from Louis’ crotch to unzip his pants. When they were loose, Louis pushed them down Harry’s hips as Harry got to work unzipping Louis.

Harry pulled his hard dick out of his pants as he began to kiss Louis again. He felt like he couldn’t keep his lips off Louis’ lips. He was an amazing kisser. Their mouths, their very bodies felt like they were made for one another, the perfect complements.

They listened to the thumping of the bass in the distance and the folksy-electric instrumentals, combined with the sound of the rain hitting the tent and the damp earth and filling the puddles outside once again.

Harry gasped against Louis’ mouth as he felt Louis’ smaller hand on his erection. He reached down and pulled Louis out of his pants and began to do the same.

They moved together like that for a moment, finding a rhythm. Eventually Louis lost the rhythm and could barely keep his lips attached to Harry’s. They moved to the sound of the spacey, percussive soundscape blasting through the speakers down on the stage, and the pitter-patter of raindrops on canvas.

“I got it, babe. Let me,” Harry rushed out, panting as he spoke. He kissed all over Louis’ flushed face as Louis let his hand fall away. Harry shifted their bodies the last fraction of an inch closer and hooked his thumb around himself, still holding onto Louis.

Louis gasped at the unusual pressure, but quickly realized how amazing it felt. Harry slid his hand up and down, slowly at first, and then quicker, jerking them off together.

Louis couldn’t help bucking his hips in time with Harry’s hand movements. Their lips met again and Louis pulled Harry in as close as he could.

Their breath was heavy, the air between them thick. Their clothes were drenched with sweat. Harry’s hand was gentle but relentless. He moved faster as the beat of the music picked up. The crowd was as loud as they had ever heard, and the music matched their zeal.

“Oh, God, Harry,” Louis yelled out. He couldn’t hold it in anymore. He clenched his jaw and moaned loudly as he came, the bass thumping in his ears, rain relentlessly pounding against the tent.

Harry came right after, seeing and hearing Louis come pushed him quickly over the edge. The electric-bluesy twang of the music ebbed and flowed as the boys panted, trying to catch their breaths. Harry eventually collapsed to the side, an arm wrapped over Louis, not wanting to break contact. The rain had slowed once again. The crowd cheered as a song ended and another began.

Louis leaned up and tucked himself back into his boxers. He wiped himself clean on some napkins he found in their food bag.

Harry was sprawled on his back now, and Louis tucked himself under Harry’s arm. Harry let his arm wrap around Louis’ shoulders.

Down on the stage, The Grateful Dead sang High Time. The slower, dreamlike vocals and harmonious bluegrassy chords lulled Harry and Louis to sleep, curled against one another despite the heat.

The last thing Harry thought about as he drifted to sleep was Louis’ draft notice, lying near him in the tent, that big official seal stamped on it. September 1st. That was just over two weeks. Two weeks before Louis had to report for duty to the US Army. He hugged Louis closer. Louis felt delicate in his arms.

It didn’t seem fair. It felt absurd, really. It felt unreal. Harry knew what he had been fighting for. For the past two years he had tried to do his part in the antiwar effort. But it all suddenly seemed meaningless. Thousands more would be drafted, and killed. He realized with a painful ache in his gut how far he actually was from it all. He most likely would never be drafted. He hadn’t personally known anyone who had been killed.

And here was Louis, this wonderful young boy who had so much life ahead of him, and he was being sent to Vietnam, most likely before Christmas.

Harry suddenly felt the hopelessness Louis had been talking about weighing on him like he never had before.

 

…..


	3. Chapter 3

Harry blinked his eyes open. The inside of the tent was still dim, but a pale-gray early morning light was coming in through the opening in the tent flap. It was relatively quiet outside, the music had gone silent. It was Sunday, the third and last day of the festival. Harry suddenly had a tight feeling in his stomach as he realized the weekend was almost over.

Louis was still asleep next to him, curled against Harry, his leg sprawled over Harry’s legs. Harry sat up and listened to the outside sounds. He could hear people quietly talking and laughing. He stretched his arms over his head and groaned.

Harry looked down at Louis and clenched his jaw, a tight feeling in his throat. Louis looked so small and vulnerable, asleep next to him. He couldn’t imagine Louis in a war, and he didn’t want to have to. A desperate feeling suddenly overwhelmed Harry. But he shook his head. He couldn’t do that, he knew it. He couldn’t give in to the hopelessness. That would do nothing for Louis. 

Harry swallowed the lump in his throat and gently moved Louis’ leg off his own and crawled to the tent flap. He stood up and pushed it aside, walking out into the cool, damp morning. 

Harry took two steps and immediately tripped over a large, solid lump on the ground in front of the tent. He fell forward with a grunt and landed on his hands and knees. He looked behind him at the lump, which was moving and groaning now. 

“Niall?” Harry asked tentatively, seeing blonde tufts of hair sticking out above a pile of blankets. Niall groaned again and sat up just enough for the blankets to fall away from his face.

“Hey, man! We missed you last night!” Harry said, as excitedly as he could muster given his mood and the early hour.

“What time is it?” Niall asked, his voice low and throaty.

“I have no idea,” Harry replied as he stood up and looked around. Niall suddenly sat upright.

“Oh, shit! What time is it, really? The Who is on at like five!” he announced in a panicked voice, jumping up and tossing the blankets everywhere. Niall grabbed the nearest person passing by.

“Did The Who play yet, did we miss The Who?” he stammered loudly.

“Nah, dude. Like fifteen minutes,” the boy said, his eyes heavy.

“Oh, thank god!” Niall exclaimed with relief. Harry let out a bark of laughter as Louis emerged from the tent.

“What’s all the yelling about?” he asked, rubbing his eyes and then glancing between Harry and Niall.

“The Who in fifteen minutes!” Niall said excitedly, “You are not missing this; this is gonna be the set of the entire festival!” 

“Good morning, Louis,” Harry interrupted, making sure to greet Louis with a playful grin. Louis looked up at Harry and returned the grin. 

“Good morning, Harry,” he replied, “And what kind of music festival has acts at five o’clock in the morning?” Louis asked, shuffling through their bag of food now.

“The disorganized kind,” Harry replied, watching Louis. He had his bum up in the air as he looked for some food, and Harry kind of wanted to grab it. But he resisted, turning instead to the next obvious thing. “So we should wake up Zayn and Liam,” he suggested. 

“Yeah but we have to hurry!” Niall said as he bounced excitedly, beginning to talk to the other camp. Harry and Louis followed, falling into an easy step next to one another. Harry grabbed Louis’ hand as they walked, and Louis held on. Despite all the unspoken things between them, holding hands felt comfortable and right. 

It was a strange feeling, meandering through the sea of tents and sleeping bodies in the pale morning sun. There was a lightness to it, but also an incredible heaviness between Harry and Louis. There was so much to discuss. Not just what happened, but what it meant. And the tint that Louis’ letter suddenly cast upon the whole thing; that knowledge changed it in some way, though neither boy could pinpoint how. Yet it was there. The letter was still there on the floor of the tent, perhaps now a little crumpled, but out in the open now and as obtrusive and undeniable as ever.

So they walked in silence, each holding the others’ hand perhaps just a little tighter.

 

The boys gathered up Liam and Zayn, who had fallen asleep together inside the other tent, and made their way down to the stage, following the crowd. Most of the festival goers had woken up for the early show, not wanting to miss such a big band playing live. 

Harry and Louis held each other tight as they were jostled through the crowd. They couldn’t make it close to the stage this time, but Niall seemed satisfied with their distance. 

They swayed and danced and held one another through the entire set. After the events of the previous night, both boys had a deep feeling of trust with one another. Louis felt relieved in a very significant way to have his secret off his chest. Although there was now a weight between them, he was happy he had told Harry, that it was out in the open. And neither of them regretted what had happened afterwards. In fact, they both felt much closer to one another after their frot in the tent. Louis was happy to have Harry’s arms around him as they swayed to the music. He felt safe and calm, even in the large crowd. 

The Who played for an hour, the crowd getting rowdier as the show went on. Afterwards the boys decided they needed to find some kind of breakfast so they began to wander away from the stage through the crowd.

They stopped here and there to chat with people or listen to the now distant music. The boys came across a girl selling scarves and Harry and Zayn both decided to buy one. Zayn tied his around his waist and Louis helped Harry tie his around his head, fluffing Harry’s hair around the scarf.

“Do I look like Jimi Hendrix?” Harry asked with a silly grin. 

“You do!” Liam confirmed.

“Now you just need a bunch of necklaces and a shirt with fringe down the sleeves,” Niall said through a mouthful of popcorn.

“Okay lets seriously find some people who will give us breakfast, I’m about to die,” Zayn urged dramatically. The boys set off through the crowd once again, Harry standing a little taller and prouder with his new headscarf. He held Louis’ hand tightly.

They passed a group of people crowded around a small campsite and stopped to see what the fuss was. 

“Hey, look, that guy is tattooing people,” Zayn observed. It was true. In the center of the small crowd was a young man, his own arms full of tattoos, with a girls’ arm in his lap, working slowly and carefully on tattooing her wrist with a small butterfly. His tattoo instrument was hooked up to what looked like a car battery.

“Whoa, that’s pretty cool,” Louis commented. The boys stood amongst the crowd for several minutes before their rumbling stomachs got the best of them.

On the outskirts of the crowd the boys found a collection of larger campsites with cars and busses parked around. They made their way towards a group with a campfire in front of a small yellow VW Bus. 

They were warmly welcomed and offered food and weed within moments. They boys settled around the fire with cornbread and hot dogs, Louis and Harry pressed against one another as the group passed around the little glass bowl of weed. Harry let a hand rest on Louis thigh and Louis leaned into him, now as relaxed and happy as he had been all weekend, the bud helping him to clear his mind of anxieties.

When a rainstorm came thorough, the group packed into the bus. It was crowded but comfortable. The interior of the bus was full of pillows and blankets. The discussion was light. Harry found himself feeling tranquil and quiet. He leaned against a large pillow and held Louis close, one arm wrapped around Louis’ shoulders. Louis rested his head in the crook of Harry’s arm as he listened to the soft conversation around him. 

When the rain stopped, the group they were with decided they wanted to head down to the stage to watch the current act. They invited the boys to stay as long as they wanted, and they were all happy to be able to stay in one place for a moment. 

Niall clutched his guitar, strumming lazily, no particular tune. Zayn and Liam sat close, their knees touching. It was warm in the van, but comfortable. They could hear the distant music through the bus’ open windows. Harry bobbed his head to the music, his eyes heavy. They chatted softly amongst themselves, the weed spurring their conversation. It was one of Harry’s favorite things to do; to discuss interesting things with pensive people, fueled by the calming effect of the pot, losing himself in thoughts and meditations. 

 

Their talk eventually turned to the war, as it often did. Niall’s brother had been to Vietnam, and Niall told them what his brother had told him about what the war was like. Harry noted Louis’ silence through most of the conversation. 

“I can’t believe you’ll be there so soon,” Liam said, turning lazily to Louis. 

Louis’ head snapped up off Harry’s shoulder and he looked around at the boys. It was silent in the van for a moment. “Oh, shit. Sorry. Was I not supposed to…?” Liam stammered, realizing he had clearly said something wrong. Zayn looked guilty.

“What?” Niall asked, taking a moment to comprehend what Liam had just said. He stopped strumming his guitar. Louis didn’t respond right away. “You’re being drafted?” Niall asked, not registering Louis’ discomfort. 

“Sorry, Louis. I told Liam… I…” Zayn began. Louis shook his head quickly.

“No, no it’s okay,” he said, waving his hand to brush off the awkward moment. He sat up, moving away from Harry. His high was wearing off and he suddenly had a dull headache. 

“Sorry, Louis. I wasn’t thinking,” Liam apologized again. Louis shook his head again. He didn’t want it to be a big deal.

“When did you find out?” Niall asked after a moment. Louis blinked a few times and turned to look out the bus’ small window, streaked with raindrops. His hands were clammy. He took a deep breath. Harry still tried to hold him close. 

“The letter came a few weeks ago. This… this is kind of my last hoorah, if you know what I mean,” Louis answered, his voice flat. Niall nodded. 

“Have you had the physical exam yet?” Liam asked. 

“Not yet,” Louis answered. 

“Maybe there’s something you can do then, to get out,” Niall said hopefully. Zayn rolled his eyes with a smile and glanced to Louis. 

“Yeah! I’ve heard they won’t take you if you have flat feet,” Liam said, his voice full of optimism. He looked to Zayn for reassurance. Zayn simply smiled. 

“What does that mean?” Harry asked, finally deciding it was okay to jump into the conversation. 

“I don’t think I have flat feet,” Louis answered, lifting a foot nonetheless to inspect it. 

“Well there’s got to be something,” Liam urged, always the optimist.

“You could do some drugs, be super stoned for the exam. They’ll think you’re a crazy person,” Niall suggested with a smile. The boys laughed tentatively. Even Louis grinned. 

“Or drink a ton of grape juice! Your piss will be purple. They won’t know what to make of it!” Harry chimed in, giving Louis’ shoulder a playful squeeze. They all laughed again. 

“Or pretend to be illiterate. Keep messing up the letters in the eye exam! They won’t take someone who can’t read!” Liam joked.

“Or just move to Mexico. Live in the sunshine on the beach!” Zayn added with a laugh. 

The boys giggled amongst themselves for a moment. But then Louis’ smile dropped and his posture stiffened. He suddenly thought again about the letter: that very real piece of paper that had been in his hands just last night. The one he had shown to Harry. The one that was currently lying on the floor of his tent and had been there as him and Harry had gotten each other off, panting into each other’s mouths, coming into each other’s hands.

“Or I could just march in there and tell them I’m a big fucking fag, a cockslut. That I love to fuck men. That I love cock up my ass, every day of the week. That I’m a slut for a good fuck, especially by men in uniform. They won’t want me then, will they? That’ll be sure to get me out,” Louis said bitingly, his words slicing through the thick air and instantly cutting the boys’ laughter.

They all fell silent. It was quiet in the bus for a moment. Niall looked down to his guitar. Liam and Zayn too dropped their gazes. Harry closed his eyes and clenched his jaw against a swell of anger and sadness. It was wrong. It all felt so wrong. He reached out and placed a comforting hand on Louis’ thigh.

Zayn was the first to speak, “It doesn’t matter who you are, does it?” he spoke softly. Slow, melodic music could be heard softly down on the stage now. “You could be a crazy idiot with purple piss, and as gay as they come. But once they own you, they own you.”

Louis nodded. “Once they own you, they own you,” he repeated. 

 

A few hours later, the boys trudged through the new mud back towards the stage. Niall was eager to see that afternoon’s musical act and hook up with some girls he had met the night before, and Liam and Zayn wanted to spend time together just the two of them. 

So Harry and Louis ended up back at Harry, Niall, and Liam’s camp by themselves. They were both quiet. Harry was not sure what to say, or if he should say anything at all. He knew the worst part was that there was not much he could say. He had no advice, no magic words of comfort. 

They sat down next to the camp’s small fire pit. Louis kicked at the ash on the ground. Harry busied himself sorting through the food and water they had left, separating it from garbage or other things. 

They exchanged glances now and again. Harry tried to smile but couldn’t quite muster it. Several minutes passed in uncomfortable silence.

Finally Louis burst out, “Oh for fuck’s sake, Harry!” he snapped. Harry jumped at the sudden outburst.

“What?” he asked, a frown on his face. 

“Just be normal!” Louis barked, kicking his heel aggressively at the pile of ash. “There’s nothing to be done. It is what it is,” he added.

Harry slowly stood up and walked over to Louis. He sat down behind him and wrapped his arms around Louis, resting his chin on Louis’ shoulders and spreading his legs on either side of Louis. 

“Don’t talk about yourself like that,” he said softly, giving Louis a gently squeeze. Louis frowned.

“Like what?” he asked, not sure what Harry was referring to. Harry took a deep breath. 

“Those words you used,” he began, scrunching his eyes shut at the thought of Louis describing himself the way he had. “You’re not… a slut,” he said quietly, unable to bring himself to repeat the word Louis had used.

“Oh,” Louis said flatly, just now coming to understanding. He let himself lean back into Harry, just a bit. “I didn’t know that… I didn’t realize that was why…”

“Shhh,” Harry fussed softly as he brought a hand up to stroke through Louis’ hair. “It’s okay,” he murmured, his face pressed close to Louis’ ear. Louis leaned back a little more, letting Harry hold him closer. 

“I didn’t mean…” Louis began quietly.

“It’s okay,” Harry repeated, “Just please don’t think that’s what you are just because…” he didn’t finish, but instead pressed a delicate kiss to Louis’ cheek. Louis felt his body soften at the kiss, his shoulders relaxing and his eyes going heavy. 

Harry kissed Louis’ cheek and nibbled at his ear. He let his other hand wander down to Louis’ belly and he stroked his fingers across it before sneaking under Louis’ shirt to touch his soft skin. 

Louis let out a quiet moan, his mouth closed. He grasped Harry’s thighs on either side of his own legs. He wasn’t sure if it was the heat or Harry’s touch, but he felt a flush in his cheeks. 

“You’re so beautiful, Louis,” Harry whispered as he thumbed over Louis’ hot skin. “You’re so wonderful. You don’t know how glad I am that we met.” He kissed Louis’ jaw and cheek and let his hand wander lower. Louis let out a soft sigh. “Don’t say stuff like that about yourself, okay?” he asked gently.

“Okay,” Louis agreed, more concerned with Harry’s hands now.

“Want to go in the tent?” Harry whispered. He could feel his own arousal building and suddenly felt desperate to have Louis underneath him.

Louis nodded quickly. Harry moved away from Louis and stood up, holding his hands out for Louis to take hold of and then pulling Louis up. 

Harry led them into the tent, zipping it closed behind them. When he finished with the zipper he turned back to Louis. 

Louis was crouched on Harry’s sleeping bag, sitting back on his heels, his hands grasped together. His cheeks were pink and his hair was already sticking to his forehead. Harry couldn’t help but smile.

“Are you nervous, babe?” he asked gently as he crawled over to Louis. Louis simply nodded softly. 

Harry took Louis’ hands and guided him until he was sitting comfortably. Harry sat next to him, one leg draped over Louis’ lap, the other stretched out behind Louis. He pulled Louis into a kiss, one hand on each side of his face. 

They kissed languidly, taking their time with one another. Harry loved how his plump lips seemed to fit perfectly with Louis’ thinner ones. And he tasted sweet, like weed and lemon-lime soda. Louis curled his fingers into Harry’s thick hair, and let himself fall into the kiss. 

Harry moved his hands to Louis’ waist, squeezing his thin frame and pulling his body closer. Louis let Harry move him however he liked. Harry’s hands dropped to Louis’ thighs. He squeezed them through Louis’ denim shorts, and slid his hands along the muscle. 

Harry let his thumbs press up against Louis’ crotch, eliciting a small gasp from Louis. With the encouragement, Harry turned one hand so he could press his palm against Louis’ crotch. He was pleased to feel the hardness through Louis’ shorts. He squeezed gently.

“God, Harry,” Louis moaned, his mouth still attached to Harry’s. Harry continued to palm Louis for several minutes, feeling him getting harder still, feeling his body react to the touch. 

Louis felt like his whole body was vibrating, every touch was amplified. Harry’s big hands on his crotch and cupping his face, he wanted them everywhere. He wanted Harry’s hands all over him. Louis moved his own hands to grasp behind Harry at his broad shoulders. 

“Harry?” Louis said, his voice already weak.

“Mm?” Harry hummed, pressing kisses to Louis’ neck now.

“I love when you… when you touch me all over,” Louis whispered as though giving a confession. Harry smiled.

“And I love to touch you all over,” he whispered back, pressing his palm harder into Louis’ crotch and gently raking his fingers against Louis’ neck. Louis moaned again.

Suddenly Harry pulled back, and gently pushed Louis’ chest away from him. “Lie back,” he instructed as he grasped one of Louis’ legs to wrap it around the other side of him so Louis was straddling him. 

Louis leaned backwards, finding the tent quite comfortable with several sleeping bags and blankets strewn about. 

Harry immediately moved to undo Louis’ shorts. He grasped the waistband and Louis’ boxers and pulled, gentle but quick. 

Louis gasped softly at Harry’s eagerness, but had no time to think as Harry guided Louis’ legs out of his pants altogether. 

“Just relax, babe,” Harry said gently, one hand on each of Louis’ thighs, as he gazed up at Louis. 

Louis hadn’t realized he was holding a breath until Harry had slowed to tell him to relax. Louis smiled at himself and let the breath out. He had been holding himself up on his elbows, but let himself lie back when Harry placed a hand on his belly. He allowed himself to get comfortable, resting his head back and letting his hands fall to his sides.

“Okay?” Harry asked tenderly, one hand still holding firmly to Louis’ thigh. 

“Okay,” Louis replied softly, taking another deep breath.

Harry smiled lovingly up at Louis, and then leaned forward and gently grasped Louis’ hardness while giving a gentle lick to the tip. 

Louis let out a little squeak and then laughed at himself for being startled. Harry licked the flat of his tongue along Louis’ length before taking the tip into his mouth. Louis involuntarily bucked his hips up at the sensation. 

Harry loved how turned on Louis was, and it spurred him on. He eagerly sunk down on Louis’ cock, taking him almost all the way, and Louis gasped again.

Harry hollowed his cheeks with suction and bobbed up and down several times, taking Louis in deep. Louis grasped Harry’s hair gently with one hand, the other hand clenched into the sleeping bag below him. 

Harry added a hand, grasping the base of Louis’ cock and twisting his hand with each bob of his head. Louis felt himself getting close already.

“Harry…” he whined through his panting. Harry understood and pulled off for a moment. He kept a hand at the base and licked a few times at the tip, enough for pleasure but not enough to send Louis over the edge. 

He moved both hands to Louis thighs and spread his legs further. Harry couldn’t help himself; he delivered several kisses down Louis length as he let a hand move upwards to Louis’ bum. One hand grasped Louis’ cock again as the other pushed into the cleft of Louis’ bum, a finger finding his hole. 

“Is this okay?” he asked, looking up at Louis. Louis nodded quickly.

“Yes, yes,” he confirmed breathlessly. 

Harry smiled again at Louis’ enthusiasm as he let a finger rub over his rim. He continued to work his mouth over Louis’ cock. 

Louis was overwhelmed. He didn’t know whether he should buck his hips forward to meet Harry’s mouth, or grind down onto his hand. Either way, the pleasure was immense. 

Harry finally let one finger push inside Louis, not going deep, but just enough to tease him. Louis responded with a moan. Harry continued like this for a moment, pushing into Louis with a finger, and taking his cock into his mouth, and then pulling back and licking him over. Louis moaned, his mouth closed, trying not to be too loud. They were surrounded by campsites on all sides, but he couldn’t bring himself to care too much. 

After a moment, Harry pulled back. “I’m glad I brought this,” he spoke as he rifled through his backpack to find lube. 

Louis was already wrecked and could barely register what Harry was doing. He lay there, legs open, cheeks flushed, skin damp. Harry found the lube and turned back to Louis.

“God, you look gorgeous,” he observed as he popped open the cap, but decided to move a bit slower. 

Harry moved until he was lying over Louis, supporting himself on his elbows. He kissed Louis slowly and gently and let his hands wander over Louis hot skin. He waited for Louis to open his mouth to Harry and then licked across his lips and into his mouth. Louis moaned and bucked his hips up. He was hard and eager, and already leaking onto his shirt. 

Harry placed a hand on Louis’ belly. “Taking it slow, babe,” he whispered against Louis’ mouth. They kissed for another few minutes, Harry holding Louis down gently as he ground down into him, Harry still clothed. 

Finally Harry grasped Louis’ shirt and pulled it off him, and followed with his own. The skin on skin contact brought the heat up even more, and Harry found himself moaning deeply at the feeling of Louis’ hot body against his own, no fabric in between. 

He kissed Louis slowly and deeply once again. Louis moved his hands to Harry’s bum and squeezed.

“Harry, I want you,” he panted softly, his face reddening with the confession. 

“Slowly, babe,” Harry spoke again, although he ground his hips down into Louis once again. 

The feeling of Harry’s cock through his pants sliding across Louis’ already hard length was almost too much. 

“Harry,” Louis whined. He was so close. Harry understood. He rocked against Louis once again.

“It’s okay,” he assured Louis. He attached his lips to Louis’ once again and ground down against him. Louis could barely hold the kiss as he came, releasing between them and holding tightly to Harry’s bum. 

He cried out as he came, no longer caring who could hear through the thin fabric of the tent. 

 

When he was finished, he laid his head back again and looked up at Harry with glassy eyes. 

“God, you’re gorgeous,” Harry whispered, leaning down to give Louis’ several more pecks on the lips. He moved down, sliding his body along Louis’ body, leaving a trail of kisses down his torso.

Harry moved down further still and licked once more up Louis’ length, still hard and now sensitive. Louis shivered at the contact. Harry grasped Louis’ legs, under his knees now, and pushed his knees up and outward. 

Louis let out a tiny gasp at the sudden exposure, but let Harry continue. Harry let go of Louis’ legs and grabbed the lube once again. He coated two fingers and pressed one of Louis’ legs outward again with the other hand.

Harry pressed the fingers against Louis’ hole and began to rub gently, just teasing his rim, not moving too quick. Louis moaned and shivered at the touch. 

“This okay?” Harry asked again, seeing how sensitive Louis was. He was still hard and leaking once again, never having come down from his arousal. Louis nodded, his eyes closed. His hands were shaking.

Harry pressed one finger in again, slowly, but deeper this time. Louis took a sharp intake of breath. Harry bit his lip and shifted his body closer to Louis, sitting between Louis’ open legs and pressed up close. He slowly pressed his finger in and out of Louis, going deeper each time. Louis was already squirming against the pressure.

Harry added another finger, going slowly. He curled his fingers inside Louis, eliciting a soft gasp. Louis was sensitive but eager. Harry loved how responsive he was, and moved a bit faster now, feeling Louis’ tightness around his fingers. He watched Louis’ face, watched his jaw clench with the intense pleasure. 

Harry was so hard inside his pants; he knew he couldn’t stand it for much longer. When he felt like Louis was ready, Harry pulled his fingers out. Louis’ eyes snapped open at the sudden loss of fullness. 

Harry unzipped his pants and quickly pushed them down along with his briefs. He groaned when he was finally free of restriction. 

Louis had his eyes open now and was looking down his body at Harry, his eyes wide and attentive now. Harry noticed Louis staring and smiled. Louis looked up at Harry and their eyes met. He blushed, knowing Harry was watching him. 

“You’re big,” he observed, his cheeks still red. 

“I’ll go slow,” Harry said with a gentle smile. He leaned forward over Louis body to kiss him. He wanted Louis to be relaxed. Harry settled himself on top of Louis, leaning on his elbows once again. Louis wrapped his legs around Harry, pulling their bodies even closer. They kissed for another minute, getting pressed together, no space between them. 

Finally, Harry reached down and grasped himself. He pressed his tip against Louis’ hole, feeling how tight he still was. 

“Relax, baby,” he gently instructed. Louis nodded and breathed deep again. 

When he felt Louis relax, Harry pushed in. It was tight and hot and so full. Louis whined underneath him and held on tightly. His mouth fell open. 

“Jesus,” Louis breathed, pushing his face into Harry’s neck. 

“God, you feel so good,” Harry said, already panting. He began to slowly rock his hips. He knew he couldn’t move too quickly, and also knew they wouldn’t last long. 

Harry thrust into Louis, slow but deep. Louis moaned against Harry’s neck. Harry was already overwhelmed. Louis held on tightly, allowing Harry to push in again and again. He clutched Harry’s shoulder blades, clawing into his skin. 

Harry groaned deeply as he felt himself getting close. 

“Can you come for me again, baby? Come for me again,” he said through grunts. Louis nodded vigorously, unable to speak at that point. He clenched his thighs on either side of Harry’s hips and dug his heels into Harry’s bum. 

“God, Harry,” he moaned, arching his back to meet Harry’s thrusts. It was so full and painful but incredibly amazing at the same time. 

“Just let it come. Hold onto me and let it come,” Harry instructed, his voice coming out deep and rough. 

“Oh, God,” Louis whined. He pressed his open mouth against Harry’s neck. 

“Tell me,” Harry said with another thrust. He was going all the way in now. “What do you need?”

“Mmm… faster… and… like… harder,” Louis spoke, completely out of breath. 

Harry shifted so his knees were against the ground for more leverage. He pressed into Louis harder now, moving quicker with each thrust. 

“Like this?” he asked with a grunt. Louis squealed and arched his back again. He nodded vigorously in response. 

Harry thrusted a few more times in the new position, holding himself up on his hands, and looking down at Louis now.

Louis came again a moment later, crying out and clenching around Harry’s dick. Harry came right after with a loud groan. He continued to thrust through his orgasm, watching Louis come as well. 

 

When they had both come down, Harry collapsed on top of Louis, trying to catch his breath. Louis wrapped his arms around Harry once more, holding him close. 

They stayed like that, Harry on top of Louis, both breathing deep and coming slowly. Harry turned his head and his lips met Louis’ lips. They kissed, slowly, leisurely, there was no rush. They held each other tight and moved their lips together in a perfect rhythm. 

 

When Harry finally felt like he had muscles again, he rolled off Louis and landed to his side with a grunt. Louis reached over and pulled a blanket over himself. Harry snuggled under it as well.

“Fuck, that was good,” Harry breathed, pressing his face into the side of Louis’. He kissed Louis’ temple as Louis giggled.

“That was. That was really… really fucking great,” Louis replied, turning his head to meet Harry’s lips.

“Let’s do it again,” Harry said with a laugh.

“Oh, god. Are you trying to kill me, now?” Louis joked.

“Nah, I’m joking. We can wait… like… five minutes?” Harry replied with a sly grin. Louis laughed again and rolled his eyes.

Harry placed a hand on Louis’ stomach and began to draw little circles across his skin. Louis drew in a breath at the gentle contact. 

There were already crickets chirping outside, and groups of people passing by outside, making their way down to the stage for the evening acts. 

“This weekend went by so fucking fast,” Louis observed. Harry simply nodded. He continued to trace patterns across Louis’ stomach and chest. They were quiet. The air was cooling off. Thunder rumbled somewhere far away. 

Louis found himself lost in his thoughts once again. He didn’t want to be though. He wanted to be present, here and now with Harry. 

 

“I don’t want to let you go,” Harry spoke suddenly, his voice deep and quiet. Louis blinked a few times, pulling himself back to the present. He felt heavy suddenly. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t know what to say. 

“Louis,” Harry said gently, leaning up on his elbow now, propping his head in his hand and stilling his hand on Louis’ belly. 

Louis had to fight to keep an even manner to his voice. “So you want to have that conversation?” he asked, although it his voice still quivered and his tone was bitter.

“Yes,” Harry responded matter-of-factly. His voice was so steady, so opposite of Louis’. 

“I mean, what is there to say? There’s nothing we can do,” Louis commented, waving a hand through the air as though to brush away the topic at hand. 

“I can write to you,” Harry replied. He was not going to let Louis brush this off. It was too important. 

“There’s no way you’ll want to be writing to me all the time,” Louis said.

“Yes I will,” Harry argued.

“No you won’t, Harry. You’ll be in school and moving on with your life and going to your protests. There’s no way you’ll want to keep in touch with some random guy you met at a music festival,” Louis disputed. 

Harry quickly shook his head, his eyes full of hurt. “You really think that’s what you are? You really think that’s what this is? That’s what this was?” Harry questioned, nodding his head and gesturing at themselves to indicate their bodies, pressed together under the blanket.

Louis huffed and squeezed his eyes shut. He was not used to this, to such honesty. “How did you get to be this way, really?” he asked, looking Harry in the eye now.

“Louis, don’t change the subject,” Harry admonished.

“No, really. You’re so… it’s like you’re not afraid to be… to be vulnerable,” Louis tried to describe.

Harry huffed and shook his head. “Louis, you’re going to war,” he said curtly. 

Louis dropped his hand and went quiet. He sucked in a breath and closed his eyes, letting it out slowly, and gave a terse reply, “Yes, I know that, Harry.”

“So now is the time,” Harry spoke, “Now is the time to be vulnerable. You don’t need to pretend, or to try to be strong. Just…” his voice faded.

“Just what?” Louis asked.

“Just… I want you. And I’m trying. I want to give this a try. And it’s a fucked up situation, I know that,” Harry answered. “I want you, and I’m trying,” he repeated. 

Louis went quiet. He seemed to be in thought about this, not sure how much to let himself go.

“You’ll write to me?” he asked softly. 

Harry’s expression softened. He placed his hand back on Louis’ soft stomach. 

“I will write to you. As much as I can. And you’ll write back,” Harry replied, looking into Louis’ eyes once again. Louis nodded, a small smile on his lips now.

“And I’ll write back,” he answered. It suddenly dawned on Louis that Harry could be someone to come back to. Harry could be someone worth going through all of this, so they could be there together at the end. Harry could be someone worth living for. The thought made his throat tighten, and he blinked back tears. 

Harry could see it in his eyes. He kissed Louis gently on his temple and Louis grasped Harry’s hand that was resting on his chest now.

“And you really want that?” Louis asked. He needed to ask again. He needed to be sure.

“That’s what I want. Is that what you want?” Harry replied.

“It’s what I want, too,” Louis agreed with a nod, his eyes damp. He had a vision of himself, curled up under a tiny tent as it poured rain outside in the jungle in Vietnam; surrounded by his platoon, all in their own tents and just trying to keep dry. He was using the light of a tiny flashlight to scribble a letter, the edges of the paper curling with dampness. 

“You’ll be like my connection to home. Like my anchor here,” Louis said, his voice breaking just slightly. Harry smiled, still gazing at Louis.

“I’ll be your anchor,” Harry responded with a nod. 

 

They were quiet together for a moment, each lost in his own thoughts, before Harry sat quickly up, an idea dawning on him.

“Hey, I have an idea!” he announced, startling Louis out of his daydreams. 

“What?” Louis asked as Harry sat up on his heels and began to shuffle around the tent for their discarded clothing. 

“We’re going outside,” Harry announced, tossing Louis his shirt and shorts. Louis groaned.

“I wanted to sleep for a bit,” he whined.

“No, this is a good idea,” Harry promised, throwing his clothes on and moving to unzip the tent. 

 

Both boys crawled out of the tent into the late-afternoon sunshine. “Seriously, what are we doing?” 

“Just trust me,” Harry replied, taking Louis’ hand. He led them through the campground, not meandering but walking with purpose. He led them in the same direction they had walked early that morning while looking for breakfast. 

“We’re here,” Harry announced finally, coming to a stop in a familiar place. Louis looked around. They had come to a stop in front of the tattoo artist’s tent. 

There was no longer a crowd, as most of the festival goers had gone to watch the evening show. The tattoo artist was outside his tent and working on a tattoo for an older man whose skin was already littered with other ink.

“I want to get tattoos together,” Harry explained, turning to Louis now. Louis couldn’t help but laugh.

“You want me to pay some random guy we don’t know to permanently mark our bodies with… with what?” Louis explained.

“With an anchor and a rope,” Harry replied confidently, a smile on his face. “Or more specifically, an anchor for me and a rope for you.” 

Louis wasn’t sure what to say. He blinked a few times, and looked back and forth between the tattoo artist, who was not paying them any attention, and Harry, who was staring at him with puppy dog eyes. 

“An anchor and a rope?” he repeated as a question.

“Yup,” Harry replied, “It’s perfect. They’re complementary.” 

Louis continued to stare at the tattoo artist. The buzz of his tattooing needle suddenly seemed quite loud. “Don’t an anchor and rope normally go together?” he asked, looking back to Harry.

“Exactly. That’s why you’ll get one and I’ll get the other. Because they belong together,” Harry described. Louis didn’t reply for a moment. He considered it. He knew normally he was not a spontaneous person, but this felt like something he could agree to. 

“If you don’t want to, it’s no big deal-” Harry began, his face falling.

“No, I want to,” Louis interrupted, placing a hand on Harry’s mouth to silence him. Harry smiled under Louis’ hand. 

“You really want to?” he asked. He needed to be sure.

“Yes. After all, they belong together. Like you said,” Louis replied, smiling up at Harry now. He stood on his toes and gave Harry a quick peck on the lips.

 

Ten minutes later, Louis was holding tight to Harry’s hand as he got his first tattoo. A large anchor on his left wrist, without a rope. 

Louis was next. A rope, tied in a loose knot, on his right wrist. 

It was quick. Each tattoo took no more than thirty minutes. The artist had done hundreds of nautical tattoos and was quite familiar with the designs. 

Harry and Louis observed their tattoos, and held their wrists together so anchor and rope lined up. The skin was red and sensitive, but the new ink looked phenomenal. It was perfect. 

“So we’re really giving this a try, aren’t we?” Louis asked, gazing at the tattoos, as though still realizing this for the first time. 

“We’re really giving this a try,” Harry replied softly with a squeeze to Louis’ hand. It made Louis smile. Tears welled up in his eyes again and he shook his head with a laugh. He couldn’t remember the last time he had allowed himself to feel so much.

 

By the time the boys made it back to their campsite, Liam, Zayn and Niall were already there and eating dinner. 

“Hey! We thought you guys abandoned us!” Niall joked as Harry and Louis walked up to the site and sat down. 

“Holy shit, what’s on your wrist?” Liam exclaimed as he observed the boys. 

Louis and Harry smiled knowingly at one another. 

“We got tattoos,” Harry said simply.

“No way,” Zayn replied, moving closer to take a look. They showed the other boys their new ink. They looked on, their smiled growing bigger as they realized the implications of the designs. 

“Wow that’s… far out,” Liam said happily. 

Louis and Harry settled down next to one another, both finding themselves suddenly quite exhausted.

“So it turns out Hendrix isn’t playing until tomorrow morning,” Niall explained, somewhat crestfallen.

“Should we stay?” Zayn asked Louis. Harry and Louis exchanged a glance. 

“Yeah, I think we should stay the night, and then get up early to watch Jimi,” Louis replied.

“So we’ll stay too, right?” Niall asked excitedly, looking at Liam now. Liam laughed.

“Yes, we can stay,” he replied. Niall beamed. 

“Sweet! It’ll be the perfect way to end the festival!” Niall declared. 

 

Exhausted from the day, all five boys slept easily through the night. They woke up early to pack up their campsites and eat breakfast before Jimi Hendrix’s performance at 9. 

Many festival goers had left overnight, and by the next morning the audience had dwindled to about ten thousand. But when Jimi Hendrix and his band hit the stage, the audience was as loud and enthusiastic as ever. Many of them had waited the entire weekend for this performance. Hendrix and his band played, uninterrupted, for over two hours, ending the set with an incredible solo performance of The Star Spangled Banner. It was a performance that would become emblematic not only of Woodstock, but of the 1960s themselves. 

Harry and Louis held each other tight through the entire set, dancing or swaying together, often attached at the lips. There was an incredible feeling of love all around them, and of peace. For the moment, even if it was just that moment, the boys felt at peace. 

Halfway through the set, Harry looked down and noticed again the new ink on his wrist, standing out against his pale skin. He looked to Louis’ wrist, his hand attached to Louis’ hand. He leaned down to speak into Louis’ ear.

“This is really just the beginning,” he whispered.

Louis looked up at him and smiled. “It’s just the beginning,” he replied, his voice audible only to Harry over the loud music and thunderous crowd. “You’re my anchor,” he added. 

“I’m your anchor. And I’ll be here. I’ll be here for you, no matter where you are,” Harry promised, squeezing Louis tighter.

Louis nodded, taking it all in: the music, Harry’s embrace, his words of comfort. “No matter where I am,” Louis repeated softly. 

Harry grinned and pulled Louis close against his chest. He wrapped his arms around Louis’ chest, and Louis held onto him tight.

 

***

 

The Vietnam Conflict would last for another six years, ending on April 30th 1975. By the end of the war, it is estimated that over 3.1 million people lost their lives, including 58,220 U.S. service members.

Antiwar demonstrations continued through the war’s entirety, becoming increasingly popular in American culture and music. After four students were shot and killed during the Kent State University demonstrations, university protests broke out nation-wide, and high-profile opposition to the Vietnam War was everywhere. Resistance to the war united many, and by its end, it is estimated that nearly two thirds of Americans were opposed to the war and in favor of withdrawal of U.S. forces from Vietnam.

Antiwar protests ended after the Paris Peace Accords in 1973, which marked the final withdrawal of troops.

Although the summer of 1969 would later be seen as the end of the hippie revolution, Woodstock became a defining moment of the 1960s. This counterculture movement progressed further and further into public awareness, and many social changes that it spawned have echoed into the modern era.

 

…

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading!


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